Testing a way of copying and pasting to see if it will turn out normally formatted.

"Matilda!" Poppy called.

A moment later a girl, whose brown hair was even more curled than Poppy's, wiggled through the bushes.  She looked at Poppy questioningly.

"Please take Henry back to the house.  Bring the others with you, it will be getting dark soon.  I'll be there in a moment."

Poppy set Henry on his feet and brushed grass off his clothes.  Matilda took the sniffling Henry by the hand and left the way she had come.  Poppy could hear her calling the rest of the children.

Poppy turned to Charlotte.

"Release the snake."  Which Charlotte did without a word, though her lips formed a pout.

Then, placing a firm hand on Charlotte's shoulder, Poppy led her to the house.  Where she intended to give Charlotte a scolding.

Chapter 3: 

Kell lifted his head and rubbed his eyes.  They ached from the detailed work he had been doing.

"Keep working", the carpenter growled.

Kell bent his stiff neck over the cradle board again and picked up his knife.  He shaved off thin curling shreds of wood, creating ditches in the wood that formed swirling patterns.

Beside Kell, on the other side of the board the carpenter grumbled.

"Those nobles, ordering pieces of wood to be made into extravagant cradles and what have you.  And since their superior heads forgot to order them until the last moment this ridiculous cradle must be ready in a week!  Bah!"

Kell blew gently on the wood and the shavings fluttered off the wood and fell to the already shaving carpeted floor.  He shifted in his seat to be at a better angle for carving a spiral.

The light from the small shop window was dimming.  Now so little light came through it was useless.

Kell stood up from the bench and -- stumbling slightly on his numb legs -- walked stiffly to the large lantern set on a shelf.  He fumbled in his pocket with his cramped hand for matches.  He struck one and used the hissing flame to light the lantern.  The wick flared to life and the resulting glow filled the room.

Kell stood on the bench and hung the lantern above the table they were working at.

Scrape, scrape, scrape.  Kell worked the knife around twists and turns.  Shaving after shaving flaked off the wood with every stroke of his knife.

He wished the carpenter wasn't so renown for his carvings.  Then, far off nobles wouldn't order cradles covered in elaborate carvings to be ready in seven days.  Then, he wouldn't have need to work late into the night.

A loud grunt startled Kell.  He looked up.  The carpenter had his head on the table, his eyes were closed and soft snores issued from his half open mouth.  Kell felt like joining the carpenter in his slumber, he was exhausted.

I must keep working, we have only a week.  Kell forced himself to continue.  

A week, a week.  The words repeated themselves in his mind.  A week, a week.

Dreams and reality swirled in Kell's mind.  Mixing present and past, fiction and truth.  His eyelids felt weighted.  The knife dropped from his suddenly relaxed hand and fell to the floor with a muffled thump.

Just for a bit, he thought.  I won't close my eyes for long.

Kell's eyelids drooped close.  His head sank to the table, his long dark hair spread around his face.  Kell was asleep.

Above the sleeping figures of Kell and the carpenter the lantern burned brightly.

* * *

Xavier was weary and it showed in his steps, though no sign of it appeared on his expression.  He stopped at the beginning of the village's main road, gazing at the scattered houses with his periwinkle eyes.

The sun was setting and Xavier's shadow stretched long and dark behind him.  A breeze rushed towards him and cut through his worn clothes.  Xavier pulled his tattered cloak tighter around him.  He walked down the dirt road, the soles of his shoes flapped with each step.

Light flickered from the windows of the houses he passed.  Fresh smoke billowed from chimneys as the inhabitants built up their fires to fend off the chill night air.  The breeze that had been blowing steadily throughout the day lessened.  Though as it lessened it grew cool.

As Xavier walked further what he had taken for a small hut in the road became a well.  It was sturdily built from large river stones.  Four sapling poles were planted evenly around the well.  The poles curved gracefully upwards where they supported the thatched roof of the well.

Xavier noticed the thatching was a light grey.  This must be the village Grayingwell, he thought.  It was known for the unusual grey color of the well's thatching.

Xavier leaned over the well.  His face was reflected dimly on the surface of the clear water.  The thought occurred to him that he looked like a thief, or a bandit.

His fair skin was covered in the grim of a long journey. His clothes were tattered, and his shoes were little more than scraps.  In vain he tried smoothing his tangled dark blond hair.

Using the well's bucket he drank a long draught of the cold clear water.  Then, he strode to a small copse of trees.  Whose boughs showed behind a cluster of houses.  There Xavier would bed for the night.

In front of him the sun shot one last ray of gold into the deepening sky, and sank below the horizon.  Leaving the world in darkness.

Above the first star glittered; cold, remote, distant, beautiful.

- - -

Hope you enjoyed this installment!  I'll be back with another this coming Sunday.  That installment should start building the story as this one and the last ones were character and village introductions. 

Chapter 4

Poppy carried a bowl of soup in each hand to the table.  She placed them in front of two of the children at the table.

"Granny says to begin eating", Poppy announced.

"Why?", Henry asked.

"She's checking on Anne", answered Levinnia from the far end of the table.

"Why?", Henry asked again.

Poppy answered this time.  "Anne was acting tired.  Granny wanted to put her to bed early."

Henry opened his mouth, his lips beginning to form the word 'why'.  Levinnnia hurriedly spoke first.  "Anne is fine.  Let's eat."

Matilda spooned a mouthful of soup into Henry's mouth which prevented him from asking more.

The meal was a quiet one.  Even Henry knew not to complain of the watery and bland soup which had become the usual fare in the orphanage.

Anne, the one who usually started all the conversations, was absent.  She had been lethargic for most of the day, very unlike her usual energetic self.

The meal was finished quickly and with a minimal amount of words spoken.  The children stacked their empty bowls into columns and began taking them to the wash basin.

As Bradley passed Poppy he leaned towards her and asked in a low voice, "are you sure Anne is fine? This is . . . unusual for her."

Poppy gave him a bright smile.  "I'm sure she is.  She probably exhausted herself running like she did yesterday."

Bradley nodded, somewhat comforted.

* * *

Mila looked up as the healer hurried in silently from the door, her face was wiped of any emotion as it had been since she had come from a visit to the Orphan Home a few days ago.

Even though the healer's face showed no emotion Mila knew she was worried.  A knot formed in Mila's stomach.  She had never seen the healer worried for so long, or so silent.  Usually the healer answered the questions Mila asked her.  Giving her information on diagnosing and cures to injuries and sicknesses.  She hadn't answered any of the questions Mila had asked recently.  It seemed as if the healer hardly heard her.

The healer set down the basket she carried and moved to the bookcase at the back of the room.

Mila watched the healer, holding her sud covered hands over the washbasin at her waist.

The healer slid back the panels of the bookcase, revealing rows of tightly packed books.  Their spines were old and faded, the titles unreadable.  Here and there flecks of gilding not yet gone glinted.

She peered at the spines, running her hands along the rows.  She stopped in the middle of a row at her eye level and gently removed a large dark green book with tarnished silver corners from between two others.

"Healer Kathryn, is everything --," Mila trailed off, unsure of how to end her question.  The question she had asked for days and received no answer for.

The healer looked at Mila as if noticing her for the first time.  She hesitated before beginning.

"You must not tell anyone.  I do not know enough to share with the village without spreading unnecessary fear."

"I won't", Mila promised.

The healer nodded and motioned Mila to sit at the wooden table.  Mila wiped her hands on a cloth and sat.  The healer sat across from Mila.

"Anne was acting strangely tired a few days ago, but this Granny attributed to the day before when Anne was higher in energy than usual."

Mila, who had smiled at the mention of bright and energetic Anne, now frowned.  Anne had never acted tired before.

"When Anne slept for a full day and showed no signs of waking Granny called me.  I have tried all I could, but Anne has not changed.  I fear she will not live much longer if I fail to wake her."

The healer seemed to guess the question Mila had.  "I have not told you this before because my mind has been preoccupied."

"How can I help?", Mila asked after a moment.

The healer pushed the large book across the table to Mila.

"Perhaps you will find a cure in the pages", she said as she got up to retrieve another large book from the case.

* * *

Xavier strode towards the well, the empty pail belonging to the owner of the house he had found lodgings with bouncing off his legs at each step.

He noticed a small gathering of village children off to one side.  He watched them curiously as he filled the pail.

A curly red haired girl was talking earnestly, she looked cheerful and seemed to be trying to convince the others around her of something.

A brown haired boy was standing close to the girl, regarding her with ice blue eyes and a small frown.  He seemed worried.

A boy with hair that fell a little past his shoulders stood in front of the red haired girl.  On his dark clothes were small shavings of wood.  His face might have well been a granite wall for what emotions Xavier could read off it.

A short boy with a slightly dreamy expression had on a bright red knitted cap, from under which tufts of black hair escaped.

A thin girl with black hair down to her waist stood slightly outside of the group.  She looked indifferently with arms crossed at a tall young woman with auburn hair who was now speaking.

Done at the well Xavier edged closer to the group.

". . . I think Anne will be fine", the young woman ended what she had been saying firmly.

"I've never seen Healer Kathryn act like this before though", the boy with ice blue eyes said doubtfully.  "She seems really worried."

The red haired girl smiled comfortingly at the boy.  "I don't think there is anything to worry about."

"Excuse me", Xavier tapped the black haired girl lightly on the shoulder.  "But is everything alright?"

The girl whirled around.  She looked coldly at Xavier for a few moments.

"How should I know, stranger.  And if I did know, why should I enlighten you with my knowledge?" she said.

Xavier blinked, startled by her harshness.  He opened his mouth to apologize, though unsure of what he had done.  But the girl had turned her back to him and was walking haughtily to away.

"Just ignore her.  Lenna is always rude."  The wood shaving covered boy spoke for the first time.

Xavier turned to him, relieved.  "I thought I had insulted her terribly."

The red haired girl laughed.  "No, she's just a grump."

The young woman spoke.  "I don't believe we have introduced ourselves.  I am Levinnnia."  She placed her right hand over her heart and dipped her head in the formal greeting gesture.

"This is Poppy", Levinnia continued, motioning to the red haired girl.

Bradley was the boy with ice blue eyes.  Kell was the boy covered with wood shavings.  Silas was the red capped boy with a dreamy expression.

Each repeated the gesture as Levinnia introduced them.

Xavier placed his hand over his heart and nodded his head.  "I am Xavier."

- - -

Hope you all enjoyed this installment!

Any suggestions for a title for this story?  I know it is a little early yet, but I am open for title suggestions any time. Same goes for constructive criticism! 

This is AMAZING!

Hi all, I was unable to write this week's installment.  I found a fork in the road and am trying to decide which one I want my story to take.  I had it all planned out, but somehow got off the plan.  Now I'm trying to find my way back.  I will post as soon as I have the next installment.  I am sorry about this.  I hope to write the next installment soon!

Chapter 4 (continued):

The sun had set and stars shone in the darkness.  Silas stood outside his door.  A small bat hung upside down from his outstretched arm.  It chirped and Silas answered, he could have been mistaken for a bat himself.  Bats swooped around his head, eating bugs and chirping to each other and Silas, who answered in their language.

He gazed at the stars through the silhouettes of the bats that passed across the sky.  His eyes traced the invisible lines between the stars, connecting them in the outlines that formed the constellations.  The Pheonix, the Three Brothers, the Well, and the Face with the blue star that never twinkled for one eye.  Silas found each of them with practiced ease.  He gazed the longest at the blue eye of the face.

Tales said the blue star that never twinkled was a planet and home to another world of humans.  But no one had proof for whether the tale was fiction or not.  Just as no one had proof for the rumors that the world Silas lived in was flat.

A cry broke through the stillness.  The bats streaked away into the night, startled by the unexpected cry.  Silas jerked his gaze from the sky.  His eyes darted and his heart beat faster than normal.

The Orphan Home door was flung open and a figure rushed out, tripped down the stairs and fell to the ground in a heap.

Heart thumping,  Silas walked over to the figure.

"P-Poppy?" Silas stuttered, still startled.

Poppy looked up, her eyes were brighter than usual in the starlight.

"Silas . . .", she said in a choked voice.

"What?"  Silas desperately felt the need to do something, anything.  A sense of dread was coming upon him.

Tears trickled down Poppy's cheeks.

"Anne --",  her voice trembled and broke.  Her next words came out nearly intelligible so choked was her voice.

"She's d-dead."

Poppy burst in to tears.

- - -

Apologies about the lateness of this installment.  It is continued from the last chapter, which wasn't what I had planned but it works!

Chapter 5

Lenna's feet pounded against the damp ground of the forest.  Her hair streamed out behind her and she drew breaths through her mouth, the cool air stung her throat.  Her heart beat quickly.  She didn't stop

She wove her way around trees and bounded over bushes and puddles.  She ran, pushing herself faster and faster.

She felt her worries drop from her, left behind her by her swift feet.  The worries she had ever since her mother perished from burns and her father disappeared .

How could she repay the healer for the care she had given to her mother, easing the agony brought on by the burns when she, Lenna, had no skills with which to do so?

How could she survive another winter without living in the Orphan Home?  Something she refused to do.

The question that haunted her, night and day, clung tightly to her but eventually it too left her.  Falling off her as her feet carried her over a puddle.  Would her mother have lived is she had not hesitated before pulling her from the burning house?

Lenna ran faster, and faster.  She left her cares far behind her before stopping.  She dropped to her knees gasping for air.

Finally, her breath coming not so quickly, she stood and began her walk back to the lonely hut she lived her.

Her cares swooped down upon her, settling around her shoulders like a thick cloak.

* * *

The healer sat at the wooden table long after she had sent Mila to bed.  She scanned page after page in book after book by the light cast by a candle.  Fighting off the despair that threatened her.

More and more were falling ill with the sickness Anne had died from.  It took anyone, young and old, weak or strong.  The symptoms began with tiredness, sometimes depression.  It grew until the victim fell into a sleep none had survived yet.

The village was becoming alarmed.

Hours passed as the healer read through one book, placed it on the growing stack to her left and opened another from the shrinking stack on her right.

None of the books she had read contained the information she needed.  None ever mentioned a strange sleeping illness, much less a cure.

She brought a large tome in front of her and began reading.

The candle had shrunk in size by half by the time the healer turned the last page.  She started to close the cover when she noticed the corner of a page was maligned in the very back, between the end page and cover.  She lifted the back cover and removed the stray page which she had never noticed before.

The page was crumbling and torn.  The round handwriting blotched and smeared, the ink faded.

The healer brought the candle closer and bent her head over the paper.

"A strange illness hath beset mine towne.  The illness begins with 

the melancholy and the sleepy-ness.  I have found the cure.  Too

late, all have died.  Only I live.

This cure is warmthweed.  Many say tis but a myth for it grows not 

like other plants but must be given my Mother Nature herself.

Found Her I have, though many said 'nay, tis a myth'.

I journey to the edge of the world.  There Her presence is strongest.

I have gained the warmthweed, at a terrible price for I was foolish and

thought of no one but mineself.

If thou goest to seek her, beware . . ."

Here the words smeared and the healer could read no more.

A cure, she had found it.

But what was the "terrible price"  And what was there to beware of?  Should she go? Stay?  Send another? 

She turned these questions over and over in her mind.

Her candle guttered and reached up a long finger of flame in a last fight for life before falling and dying.  Leaving a trail of smoke behind.

The healer sat in the darkness and still she thought.

Should she take the risks? 

- - -

I hope you enjoyed this installment!  See you next week. 

I apologize about missing this week's installment.  Before I continue to post more please tell me if anyone is still reading this.  I absolutely understand not being able to reply to my installments, just need to know if anyone is still interested.  It takes time to write and post the installments and I want to make sure it's still worth the efffort.  Even if only one person is still reading this I will continue it, but it is nice to have a larger audience.

Hope your winter break is going well!

The Chronicler